Saturday 26 November 2016

What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?


Here's a familiar sight on a Friday evening on Beverley Road, traffic tailing back to the town centre and not moving much faster than a horse and cart did two centuries ago. But this is bliss compared to the predicted Carmageddon to come on Monday and Tuesday when a section of Ferensway is to be completely closed to allow the completion of some road improvement. A three mile diversion (!) has been put in place involving crossing the river twice. Now even at the best of times those river crossings are bottlenecks and with all the extra traffic it's going to be so much fun. The official advice is to take a bus instead of your car but being stuck on a bus in giant gridlock wont improve things much. My advice: stay in bed.

The weekend in black and white is here.

Monday 21 November 2016

Roundabouts but no swings


Quite the most pointless roundabout in town. Behind are the battery farms off Osborne Street where people are raised to become awesome citizens and quite a few of them are.

Friday 18 November 2016

O tidings of comfort and joy!



For the past fortnight or so a few dozen homeless folks have been camping around the fountain in Queen's Gardens. It was a protest at what was perceived to be the uncaring attitude of the Council towards rough sleepers; they wanted to be put in houses or flats rather than put in hostels. I don't know the rights and wrongs of this issue and I'm coming here with less than half a story as by the time I got round to going to town the camp had been evicted leaving only this colourful tent which was pulled down just after I took this on Thursday. The next day the Council planted four big Xmas trees on the site, well we can't have the poor and  homeless ruining the season of good will to all men now, can we?

Wednesday 16 November 2016

Déjà vu all over again


I happened upon a train having a shower the other day (as you do) and was wondering how I could lever this image into this blog. I need not have worried.
Back in the glorious sixties and seventies when motorways were being built up and down and across the country somehow Hull missed out. No three lane transportation route thunders into one of the UK's largest ports. The M62 would stop many miles west of the city and a two lane dual carriage way was considered sufficient from that point on. Well it wasn't and it isn't. And the city and port of Hull is still suffering from that short sighted penny pinching attitude. Screech forward to today and the track from Liverpool westward (equivalent to the M62) will be electrified but the Government has decided in its infinite stupidity that the rail line from Hull to Selby will not be electrified. So passengers from London or Liverpool will have to switch trains and go back half a century or more in terms of rail transport. Freight will have to be moved by practically antique, in terms of technology, engines. This is a despicable decision from a Department of Transport that is unfit for purpose, that clearly has nothing but contempt for the city of Hull, that has still not even put in place plans to alleviate the mess it caused back in the seventies. Ah well we are unloved but we have the culture ... and the old push-me-pull-you trains will be clean for the next fifty years of service.

Monday 14 November 2016

It's da Green Manalishi with the two prong crown


The relentless principle of monetising every inch of space has reared its ugly head again in the aspirant city of culture. On what was an open area with seating there has now been plonked, a big glass box with a ridiculous double-projecting roof. The purpose of this structure is the sale of warm water infused with the dust of the beans of the coffee plant. Yup, yet another coffee shop.

Saturday 12 November 2016

Grey Days Ahead


Melancholy and utopia are heads and tails of the same coin.
Günter Grass
 
The time has come, I think, to withdraw into my shell and let the flood of the world's insanity pass over me. I may be some time ...
 
The weekend in black and whiter is here

Friday 11 November 2016

On Newland Avenue the poppies blow ...


It will not surprise you to learn I'm not one for poppy wearing or remembering past wars and all the dead and all that business. My old grandad  joined up to fight in the first European madness; he fancied wearing a kilt so he and his brother joined a Scottish regiment just for that reason! His brother didn't come back. (let's hope insanity does get passed on) Any hoo he would say he had no time for the sycophantic Royal British Legion and their revelling in the horrors of the Somme and so on. So what was good enough for old Joe is good enough for me. Strikes me that every year there's more and more of this enforced, dare I say phoney,  'remembrance' of past hostilities (for example, everyone on TV has to wear a poppy or face obloquy from the self-appointed arbiters of public decency) when a bit, nay, a large dollop of forgetfulness might be in order. Enough of this dwelling on the past.
What we have here is part of a grandly insane scheme by a local lady to knit or crochet over 3000 woollen poppies and plant them in all the flower boxes on Newland Avenue. I suppose it's impressive if that's the sort of thing that impresses you. With the inevitability of the sun rising in the morning some toe rag stole a set of poppies. Go take up your quarrel with the foe ...